


Love Advice

by elxetera



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Hhhhhhh, How do I tag a fic without giving away the entire plot, M/M, Ouija Boards, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elxetera/pseuds/elxetera
Summary: “We think he likes you,” Adam says.Crowley chokes out a noise that is somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “He—angel? Aziraphale? Likes me? Nah.”“Oh, but he does!” Wensleydale exclaims. “We’ve seen it for ourselves.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 93
Collections: Wahoo Winter Gift Exchange





	Love Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!!! This is the fic I have written for the Wahoo Winter Exchange and it is being gifted to @ChiJiQi9501 on Twitter. I hope you like this, Yongzhi! And thank you to Az (angelsnuffbox/MrsCaulfield) and Stef (@flamingbentley) for organizing this!

If there is one invention that Crowley hates the most, it is definitely the Ouija Board. There’s hardly any point to it, and he can’t see the point in why people think it’s _so_ fun to just randomly summon demons and whatnot. Not that demons get summoned very much anymore, and especially not him. He’s not even sure if he qualifies as a demon. And half the time, the demons who are called just end up hanging out with a bunch of drunk university students who decided to pull out their grandmother’s old ouija board to prove that they can talk to demons. (Crowley has only been summoned by groups of people like that once or twice, but he never comes. Most of them are all giggly and loopy with the alcohol, and Crowley doesn’t have time for that.)

It’s been a while since Crowley has been summoned, but he has to wonder, _why?_ God truly must hate him something awful to be dragging him from his bed where he is perfectly content surfing the internet. It’s past three in the morning, but sometimes YouTube is just far too entertaining, especially when the particular thing he is watching has to do with the Top Ten Coolest Water Slides in the World. It’s past _three thirty_ when Crowley begins to feel a tingling sensation consume his body, and he already knows what is happening. 

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs to himself. “Not again.” 

The demon groans as the tingling feeling grows stronger and stronger, contemplating whether he should ignore it—sometimes if he waits long enough, the call will stop. But he’s not always that lucky, and the feeling doesn’t go away. Shutting off his phone, he slides out of bed sighs. “Here we go, then.” 

With a snap of his fingers, Crowley is transported from his Mayfair flat to....Tadfield. 

“Oh. Brilliant. You lot again?” Crowley says as he takes in his surroundings. He is standing in a small bedroom, a child’s room, with drawings and posters strung up on the walls as well as books scattered across the floor along with articles of clothing. In the center of the room, sit four kids, The Them, with an ouija board placed in between them all. 

“What have I told you about doing this?” Crowley says, folding his arms across his chest. “I do have other things to do, you know.” 

“But we were bored!” cries Adam. “There’s nothing to do at this time of night!” 

“Well, there is sleeping, for a start,” Crowley points out. “And isn’t it past your bedtime?” he adds sarcastically. 

“Come on, we all know you don’t have anything better to do, either.” 

_Ouch,_ Crowley thinks. _But they’re not wrong._

“Sleeping isn’t fun,” says Wensleydale. 

“Sure, it is! I did it for a whole century,” Crowley replies. 

“A whole century? You can’t sleep for a whole century. That isn’t possible. How did you eat?” asks Pepper. 

Crowley shrugs. “I am a demon. I do what I want.” 

The group looks at each other for a long moment before casually shaking the thought away. 

“Well,” says Adam, “you were obviously awake, too.” 

“You don’t know that,” Crowley fires back. “But I was very comfortable, mind you.” 

“And we were very bored,” the last boy, Brian chirps. 

“Yes, obviously,” Crowley huffs. “What d’you want? This is the third time you’ve tried this in the past month.” 

“And this is the first time you’ve come,” Wensleydale says. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll stop calling me after this. And I am _not_ teaching you how to drive again.” 

That had been an interesting night. The Them didn’t contact Crowley that much, at least not with an ouija board. He got the odd text from Adam every now and then, and Pepper had even requested to follow him on Instagram. But ever since that fateful night when Brian came up with the idea that they could drive the Bentley around in a deserted parking lot, Crowley has strayed away from answering any time this particular group summoned him with an Ouija board. 

“So. What do you want this time?” Crowley asks. 

“We want to help you,” says Pepper. 

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Help me?” he repeats. 

Pepper nods. “Yeah. Me and Adam and Wensley and Brian. We remember you from that day at the airbase.” 

“Ah.” 

“You and that blonde guy.” 

“Oh, yeah, he’s Aziraphale,” Crowley answers. He supposes it is nice to know that someone did remember their part in saving the universe. Even if it was a small one. 

“We think he likes you,” Adam says. 

Crowley chokes out a noise that is somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. “He—angel? Likes me? Nah.” 

“Oh, but he does!” Wensleydale exclaims. 

“It’s all in the eyes,” Pepper chimes in. 

“He looked at you a lot that day, but you didn’t see,” Adam says. 

“But how do you know?” 

“Hey!” says Brian, sounding slightly affronted. “We’re eleven but we do notice some things.” 

“I never said you didn’t. You all are quite bright.” 

“We might be, but you are oblivious,” Pepper says. Crowley clears his throat in warning. 

“Hey,” he says. “Watch it.” 

“Look,” says Adam. “We just want to help you.” 

“Yeah,” adds Wesnelydale. “You’d be nice together.” 

Crowley can feel his cheeks go pink, and hopes that none of them notice. “Y’do?” 

“Yeah. Now, sit,” Pepper orders. Brian has pulled out a notebook and a pen, and looks ready to start taking serious notes. Crowley glances at it and furrows his brow. 

“What’s that for?” 

“We will be your matchmakers. And good matchmakers always take notes. Why don’t you tell us about Az—Azira—Azra—” 

“Just call him ‘angel’,” Crowley says, laughing gently. 

“Tell us about Angel, then,” Brian says. 

“Well. He’s nice. A bit stuck in the past. Quite literally. He looks like he’s from the Victorian Era.” 

Pepper cocks her head to the side. “Wow, you both are old.” 

“6,000 years old, in fact,” Crowley replies. 

He can see Pepper’s eyes widen in the dark as she nudges Brian to write his remark down. “You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?” Crowley says.

“Very,” says Adam. “You deserve to be happy.” 

“Oh,” Crowley murmurs, and focuses on looking at the carpet. It has quite an interesting pattern. Almost like stars, but also tie-dye. 

“See? I told you!” Pepper exclaims. “He clearly likes him back.” 

Crowley’s head shoots up and he stares at all of them. “We are friends. I’d hope I’d like my friend,” he says. 

“Still in denial,” Brian murmurs. “That’s an important one, too.” 

“Hey! I’m not denying...anything,” Crowley protests. 

“For a demon, you’re a pretty bad liar,” Pepper says, and Crowley can’t tell if she’s joking or not. These kids seem quite intent on getting Crowley hooked up with his angel. 

“I just want to ask you a few questions then, Mr. Crowley,” Brian says. Crowley snorts. 

“Just Crowley is fine. None of that formal stuff, please.” 

Brian nods and consults his notepad. 

“You know,” Crowley begins as he stares at the ouija board, “you should be careful when summoning demons. Sticky business, things like that. Not all demons want romance life advice.”

“Please. We’ve watched Halloween movies. We’re practically _experts!_ ” Adam cries. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Question number one,” says Brian in an as posh and professional voice as an eleven-year-old can muster. 

“Do you think you and Aziraphale would make a cute couple?” 

Crowley thinks for a long, hard moment. If he was being honest, he supposed they would make a nice pair. They compliment each other. They are literal opposites, both physically and with mindsets. It’s always good to have a couple that has differences and yet still gets along. 

“Sure. I think we would.”

Pepper grins and nudges Adam, while Brian scrawls a note and Wensleydale gives Crowley...a wink? 

“You’re doing great,” he whispers. Crowley raises an eyebrow and stares at him with his golden, serpentine eyes (something none of them seem to be bothered by). 

“Thanks,” he says slowly. 

Brian clears his throat. “Next question: do you, Crowley, take Aziraphale to be your lawfully wedded—” 

“Wait, _what_?” Crowley says, chuckling nervously. 

“Brian!” Pepper whispers loudly. “We’re not at that part yet!” 

“What—what part?” says Crowley. 

“The marriage part,” says Pepper casually. 

“Oh. OK,” Crowley says with gritted teeth, thinking that this will probably be worse than that time where he taught The Them to drive a car. 

“You know what?” Adam says, snatching the notepad from Brian. He rips the list of questions out from the top and crumples it up into a ball. “Sorry, Brian,” he murmurs. “But love is spontaneous. “Love is _free_.” 

“Uh...yeah?” Crowley says, growing genuinely worried. 

“He does have a point, you know,” Pepper says with a nod at Adam. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Brian says. “But in short, do you love Aziraphale?” 

“We’re jumping into this really fast aren’t we—” Crowley chuckles nervously. 

“Look,” says Wensleydale. “This is your time. You take it slow and you don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to. But all we’re saying is that we think you and the Angel man would be nice together.” 

“Really?” says Crowley, all anxiousness vanishing and leaving him slightly flattered. 

“Well, you have been down here for 6,000 years,” Brian says. 

“True.” 

“And we think,” begins Pepper, “that even if you don’t act like you’re in some gross romantic movie, that you love each other just a bit.” 

“Yeah,” says Adam. “Remember that day at the airbase?” 

“How could I forget it?” Crowley says dryly. 

“It was your love and hope that helped me face Satan. Without you and Aziraphale—wow, I got his name right! Without you and Aziraphale, I probably would have lost. You are like family to me.” 

“That—that’s really nice,” says Crowley, with a soft grin. 

“And I could see that you two really did love each other.” 

“Do you still love each other?” asks Wensleydale. 

Crowley is quiet for a moment, looking around. He pictures Aziraphale, the way he smiles, the way he laughs, the way his eyes shine. He thinks about how, even in Crowley’s darkest hour, Aziraphale has been there, with him, fighting off evil by his side. He thinks about how Aziraphale always comes back, even when it feels like there’s no hope, even when Crowley has messed up and knows he shouldn’t be forgiven. Aziraphale is the one who is there, the one who forgives him—Aziraphale is the one who _loves_ him. Huh. Kids always see more than they let on, but this is something new. And thank Someone that they called him out on it. 

“Not bad, kids,” Crowley murmurs fondly. “Yeah,” he says a little bit louder. “I’d reckon we still love each other. A lot.” 

The four of them exchange mischievous and excited glances with each other. “Well, then what are you waiting for?” exclaims Pepper. 

“Yeah, go get him!” adds Brian. 

“Tell him how you feel!” chimes Wensleydale. 

“And let us know what happens,” says Adam. 

“You know?” says Crowley. “I think I will.” 

The Them cheer slightly loudly and Crowley hurriedly shushes them. “OK, OK, you’re happy yes, I am too, but if your parents come in here, Adam, it’s over.”

“Eh, they won’t mind.” 

“Yes, well, I don’t want to be around to find out if you’re right or not,” he says jokingly, making to leave. “Get some sleep, yeah?” 

“Actually,” says Brian, “we were planning on watching Tik Toks.” 

Crowley can feel his eyes widen in genuine fear. “No, no, don’t do that. You’ll be up until six in the morning.” 

“We know,” replies Pepper with a wicked grin. Crowley smirks at her.

“This is _not_ why I designed the app, you know.” 

“Of course it is,” Adam says. “And we all know you’ll be on it, too. It’s addictive.” 

“That it is, mate,” Crowley says. He makes to snap his fingers again, but pauses. “Oh. By the way,” he says, and The Them look up. “Thanks for the love advice.” 

Adam beams. “Anytime.” 

* * *

Aziraphale is tucked away quietly in his bookshop and is rather invested in _The Turn of the Screw_ when the phone rings. He jumps slightly, but sets his book aside and moves to pick it up off the receiver. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, angel,” comes an all too familiar drawl. 

“Crowley? It’s very late. Or really early, I suppose.” 

“Well, I uh—I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking.” 

“Thinking?” Aziraphale repeats. Crowley’s voice has a mischievous lilt to it, something that Aziraphale has heard many times, and something that surely means trouble. “And what is it that you were thinking?” 

“I was at Adam's house.” 

“Adam as in Antichrist Adam?” 

“I don’t think we know any other Adams, do we, angel?” 

“There are many Adams, in the world, dear. In fact, the bartender down the street is named Ad—” 

“Yes, yes, point aside. He was with his friends, and they got bored, again.” 

“Oh, dear, they didn’t summon you again, did they?” 

“Er, that might’ve had something to do with it,” Crowley replies. 

“Oh no.” 

“It’s OK, we didn’t go driving this time,” 

“Oh, thank heavens.” 

“But...we did have a long talk,” Crowley says slowly. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes?” 

“Yeah. I uh. We’ve known each other for 6,000 years, right?” Crowley asks. 

“We have,” Aziraphale replies suspiciously. 

“And I really think, angel, that in that time...I kind of. I um—I sort of. Look, I’ve known you for a long, _long_ time and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve grown kind of fond of you. Well, not just fond, really. More than fond. I sort of kind of really love you a lot, Aziraphale,” Crowley says in a rush of words. Aziraphale has to think hard for a moment to process what he’s heard, not because it’s difficult to comprehend, but Crowley has a habit of word vomiting sometimes, and it’s quite a lot for the brain to process. 

“You what?”

“I’m actually quite in love with you and it took four eleven-year-olds to make me realize it.” 

Aziraphale is quiet for a long moment, and he can practically feel Crowley tense up on the other side of the phone. “You still there, angel?” he says. 

“Yes. Still here,” Aziraphale replies. “So, you...love me.” 

“It would seem that way, yeah,” Crowley says through a breath. 

“Hm. Well,” begins Aziraphale, slowly, and if he is feeling daring, which he supposes, given what Crowley has just told him, he is, a bit flirtatiously. “That's very good, then. Really good, actually.” 

“Good? What's good? I mean I guess being good is a _good_ thing but what is good?” Aziraphale can hear Crowley’s voice rising a number of octaves as he grows more and more anxious and he speaks before Crowley can become any more distressed. 

“It’s alright my dear. I was only going to say that it is a good thing, because, well, I am actually quite in love with you as well.” 

“Oh.” 

“How about this,” begins Aziraphale, worrying that Crowley is going to keel over in his flat. “Come over now. Have a glass of wine. We’ll talk.”

“Talk about what?” 

“Anything, really. As long as I’m talking to you.” 

Crowley exhales audibly at that. “Alright. See you in fifteen minutes. I love you—can...can I say that now?” he says. 

“I believe it’s what people say when they’re in love, so yes. I love you as well, my dear.” 

“Hm. I rather like it when you say that.” 

“Well, I suppose we shall have to say it more often, then.” 

"Yeah," Crowley agrees. "We shall." 

\-- 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought in the comments and kudos, and be sure to check out all of the other brilliant submissions in the Twitter hashtag #anightingalebrought
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as @blyomens and Twitter as @elxetera


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